


Jet

by wheel_pen



Series: Loose Gems [30]
Category: Gormenghast (TV), Original Work
Genre: F/M, Slavery, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visiting queen saves a kitchen boy from execution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jet

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things.   
> Inherent in slavery and other forms of subjugation are dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, and violence.  
> I hope you enjoy this original work, which was inspired by many different stories. 
> 
> Visual reference:  
> Jet--Jonathan Rhys Meyers

“Is this the loathsome little creature that has caused us so much trouble?” Queen Merilda’s voice held slightly more contempt than usual as she stared dispassionately down at the figure huddled on the stone floor in front of her.

“The very one, Your Majesty,” intoned her ancient manservant, Vargrass, frowning hard.

“He smells funny,” piped the young Prince Eldane from his oversized throne beside his mother. “He smells like the kitchens.”

At this comment the young man’s head snapped up and he glared furiously at the royal heir, the queen, and the rest of the assembled company who regarded him as the most disgusting being they had ever seen. Her Majesty Queen Kohana of Santar, a guest of Queen Merilda of Tereklore, noted the fire in his ink-black eyes, a fire he would have kill everyone present if only he could.

“How dare you look upon me and my son, kitchen rat!” Queen Merilda spat. “Lower your eyes!”

The young man did so, but his delicate jaw tightened and his full lips pursed, his face the very picture of rage. Queen Kohana thought he was actually rather beautiful, with his high cheekbones and almost feminine features, although at the moment they were somewhat obscured by multiple cuts and bruises, courtesy of Vargrass and the palace guards.

“What is his name?” the Queen enquired. “Fowler?”

Queen Kohana wrinkled her nose as an obese, red-faced man waddled forward, dressed in the filthy whitish uniform of the kitchens. It made her slightly ill to know that this man was in charge of preparing her food.

“He’s called Jet, Your Majesty,” Chef Fowler replied, with a nauseating moistness in his voice, as if he were just about to spit. “For those eyes, black as coal.”

“He is the one who ran away?” the Queen asked solemnly. “He is the one who stole His Majesty’s supper? Who broke into the Rouge Room and dirtied it?”

“I ran away because he is a vile man!” the boy shouted, nodding at Fowler. There were gasps all around at his audacity. “I stole food because I was starving, and the Prince always has too much to eat! And I broke into the bedroom because I wanted to sleep somewhere without rats crawling over me in the night!”

“Silence!” bellowed Vargrass, kicking the boy sharply in the ribs. He gasped painfully and curled up on the floor protectively, clutching at his stomach. He had already taken several blows to the same general area today.

“How dare you speak to me, you tiny worm,” Queen Merilda commented peevishly. “How dare you even speak _about_ me, or the Prince—“

“How dare _you_ starve me!” replied Jet in a ragged voice. Kohana raised her eyebrow in surprise. She didn’t know whether to be impressed at the boy’s boldness or shocked by it. “How dare you starve _anyone_ when you have so much you waste it! How dare you turn over children to that disgusting pig, to be treated worse than animals—“

His tirade ended in a choking groan as he was kicked three more times. Tears squeezed out of his dark eyes as he rolled on the hard floor, desperately trying to regain his breath. The young prince began to laugh, a horrible shrill sound that echoed in the cavernous room, as if Jet were performing just for him.

“Quiet,” his mother ordered flatly. “Fowler! Will you take him back to the kitchens?” Kohana saw Jet’s eyes widen in real fear at the prospect.

“Of course, if you order it, Your Majesty,” the chef stammered obsequiously, “but I’d prefer to be rid of him. Nothing but trouble, that one, since the day he was brought to me. He’s too old for kitchen work anyway.”

Queen Merilda pondered this for a moment. “Then I suppose there’s nothing else to do with him.” She nodded at Vargrass. “Lock him up somewhere. And notify the executioner.”

“The executioner?!” Jet exclaimed, struggling as Vargrass tried to pull him up. “You’re going to kill me?”

“You’re a bit of gutter trash,” the Queen explained calmly. “There is no place for you in the kitchens. There is no place for you anywhere else in your station, lowest of the low. You are completely superfluous.” She glanced at Vargrass. “Remove him.”

“Your Majesty,” Kohana interjected suddenly, a bit surprised at herself.

“Your Majesty,” Queen Merilda acknowledged, somewhat surprised.

“If I might be so bold, Your Majesty,” Kohana continued respectfully, “I could take the boy off your hands. I believe I could find a use for him.” Kohana realized that sounded a bit suggestive and hurriedly added, “Carrying the luggage, for example. After all, there is no man in my company.”

Queen Merilda looked somewhat skeptical, but Kohana held her ground. She wasn’t going to let a group of ornate barbarians execute a boy for stealing food, especially not such a fine-looking boy who might indeed be useful to her—in a variety of ways, suggestive included.

“Uh, Your Majesty, if I might make a comment,” said Dr. Barnswale carefully, leaning in towards Kohana. His protruding front teeth nibbled nervously on his lower lip—for an unusually sane man, he had a large number of nervous habits. Kohana glanced at him in acknowledgment.

“Your Majesty,” he continued delicately, “while I would of course admire your humanitarian spirit and your, ah, interest in the lad”—Kohana raised an eyebrow at him innocently—“I should like to remind you that he is, in fact, of the lowest kind of citizen, barely worthy of such a designation, suitable only to such jobs as repairing the sewers or cleaning out the stables—“

“Or preparing meals at the castle,” Kohana pointed out coolly.

“Yes, well,” the doctor coughed, “the point being that he is entirely _unsuitable_ for, hmm, _attending_ a royal personage—“

Kohana frowned at the physician, cutting him off. She had begun to look upon the doctor as a friend during her visit; despite his tendency to ramble, he seemed to be the only truly sensible person in all of Tereklore. It was rather disappointing to discover he held the same rigid ideas about class as everyone else, but she supposed it was inevitable.

“Your Majesty,” she began grandly, addressing Queen Merilda, “I _should_ rather like to have him about as a pet, a souvenir of my visit to your lovely kingdom.” Merilda’s face was beginning to soften; flattery and people as pets were concepts she understood. “My servants and I would make sure he stayed out of trouble, and I would take him with me when I took my leave of you.”

Kohana spared a cautious glance at the boy in question, who knelt on the floor in Vargrass’s grip, frozen in mid-struggle. His expression held hope, wonderment—and just a bit of defiance as well. “I think I would enjoy the challenge,” she added, as he quickly lowered his gaze.

“Oh, very well, as long as he doesn’t bother us again,” Queen Merilda replied, bored with the discussion already.

“Your Majesty is most generous,” Kohana murmured, but she was cut off by an indignant squeal from Prince Eldane.

“But Mother, _I_ wanted to see an execution!” he complained.

“Quiet,” his mother told him, picking at her dress. “Go do something. Supper is in two hours.” The Queen stood and the rest of the court, even the beaten boy, jumped to their feet as well. Waving her hand dismissively, Queen Merilda shuffled out of the throne room, her long, heavy skirt dragging behind her.

Fuming, the young prince stomped over to Jet, who was still being gripped fiercely by Vargrass although he was too surprised by recent events to struggle. Glaring up at the not-so-much-older boy, the prince sneered, “Well, you’re _still_ just a smelly old kitchen rat, anyway.”

Seeing the tightening of Jet’s jaw, the doctor hurried forward and gripped his royal patient by the shoulders. “Come now, Your Majesty,” he suggested cheerfully, “perhaps we could go amuse ourselves in the garden for a while before supper? Fresh air is so good for our royal complexion…”

Barnswale gently tugged the prince away, sending nervous glances back at Jet. That boy had a dangerous intelligence in his eyes, a look that smacked almost of— _rebellion_. The doctor barely even dared to _think_ the word and he hurried away with his charge. The rest of the servants, attendants, and hangers-on began to drift away as well, the centers of their attention having departed.

Kohana sighed and stepped away from her ‘complimentary throne,’ a delicately carved, gaudily gilded chair placed off to the side of the Prince’s, in recognition of her own royal status. She had been in Tereklore for over a week and she was ready to go mad, which she reasoned would only make her fit in better. The ancient kingdom was like a time capsule; it lived but it did not progress, instead becoming weighted down by its own traditions and poor taste.

Everything in the castle was much like her complimentary throne: once made with great skill and artistry, then so heavily redecorated over the years as to dissolve into tackiness. And not even a fun, light-hearted sort of tackiness, but rather the depressing sort, when you wander into a room and can’t understand why everything in it is so ugly.

Kohana turned her attention back to the boy she had somehow just acquired. No doubt Hoshi and Ada were snickering to themselves behind her, wondering how she would get herself out of this predicament. Well, perhaps she wouldn’t, after all; surely the boy would make her stay more interesting, and she could bring him back home with her or even let him go free later if she so desired.


End file.
